


Escape

by ThatOneWriter15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneWriter15/pseuds/ThatOneWriter15
Summary: Dean goes dark, and she helps Sam find some light.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Escape

She swirls a crinkle-cut French fry in the mountain of ketchup on her plate, and the streaking of the condiment instantly reminds her of fresh blood. 

Dean’s blood, to be exact. 

How it had pooled in his mouth, seeped from the scattered cuts on his pale face, gushed from the literal hole in his gut. 

How he’d _died_ \--and then _disappeared_. 

Swallowing thickly, she pushes her meal aside with a _clank_. At least she managed to down half of it. Conversely, Sam’s salad with a side of vinaigrette remains untouched. Hell, he hasn’t looked up from his tablet _once_ since they ordered. 

“Sam?”

“Mm?” he mumbles to the screen. She reaches for his hovering hand and sets it on the chrome tabletop. Sam exhales, his eyes rising to hers. The booth’s overhead lamp may be dim, but the dark bags under his lower ‘lids are conspicuous.

“You need to eat,” she urges softly. 

“I’m fine.” He nods with a halfhearted smile, and it ruins her. Her sorrow must show in her expression because Sam picks up his fork and shoves a bite of bare lettuce in his mouth before returning to a web page regarding demons. 

She sighs and plucks her phone from her pocket, ready to dive back into her own research. But first, she shoots Cass--poor, ill Cass--a quick update via text:

Still nothing.

Hope you’re feeling a little better today. 💙 

5:06 P.M.

She scrolls through news articles, seeking anything that potentially reflects the work of a black-eyed monster. She and Sam had already questioned a dozen of ‘em and none spilled any information on Dean’s whereabouts. Tracking a 13th feels like a dead end, but what other option do the Hunters have?

On the third page of results, something catches her attention. But it’s not demon-related. A post from NASA calls current sunspot activity “rare.” Such a pattern typically appears closer to winter, not late summer. 

The sky is ripe for a display of the northern lights.

She clicks “New Tab” immediately. Michigan, along Lake Superior. That’s the best destination nearby. A six-hour drive from the Rockford, Illinois, diner.

“We should get going.” She fishes a twenty out of her tattered wallet and sticks it under her half-full water glass.

“Do you have a lead?” Sam wonders, already sliding across the mustard-yellow seat cushion.

She doesn’t want to lie to him, but if she reveals her plan, he won’t go along with it. “I have an idea.”

***

“A-ha!” she exclaims as the hatchback’s engine roars to life. Sam’s stolen truck wouldn’t do for this trip; for the sake of its aerodynamics and her crunch for time, a compact vehicle proves superior. The car is a bit of a tight squeeze for Sam’s large frame, but he offers no complaints. Seconds after her hotwiring success, she’s peeling out of the parking space.

“So, Michigan…? ” Sam ventures as she hits the highway. 

_Crap_. Maybe she should've turned on the radio to stave off this conversation. But driving with music playing makes her think of Dean, and she _can’t_ … 

“Yep, Michigan.” She clears her throat. “Ya know, why don’t you try to grab some shut-eye? I’ll fill you in when we get closer; we’ve got 350 miles ahead of us.”

Sam inhales deeply while _she_ holds _her_ breath in anticipation. To her relief, he acquiesces. Sam tucks his sling protectively into his stomach as he curls into the door. Soft snores fill the car within minutes. 

***

She pulls over on Lakeshore Blvd, almost guaranteeing the hatchback will be towed, but it doesn’t matter. Sam slept the entire trip, and she dodged a bullet. 

Her fingertips tuck his hair behind his ear, and he stirs with a small groan. 

“Hey,” she whispers, hand landing on his forearm to help orient him.

Sam’s thumb and index finger rub his eyes. “Where are we?”

“Michigan.”

He checks the clock on the dashboard. 9:21. “Already?”

“I’m a lead foot, Sam. You know this.” The chuckle she receives is the first she’s heard in days. It’s melodic. “Come on.” 

They exit the vehicle. Sam bemusedly observes his surroundings while she opens the trunk. Across the car’s roof, a sizable desolate patch of land is dotted with a few lonely trees. On his side, the slim road parallels a concrete trail along the outside of a grove. Judging by the low hum, a highway lurks somewhere not far out of sight. She hauls their duffels over her shoulder and joins him by the passenger door. 

Sam extracts the Demon Blade from his belt. “What’s the plan?”

She sighs and lowers his left wrist with her palm. “Sam, I… I didn’t track down another demon.” His brow knits. “We’ve been working practically 24/7 for weeks--and I get why, I do. But…” Her throat seizes. “You’re runnin’ on empty. You deserve _a night_ to recharge.”

He shakes his head slightly, fighting off his own emotion. “No. No, I can’t _stop_.”

“I’m not asking you to stop,” she assures him calmly. “But you didn’t find a new lead today, did you?” Silence. “Then we’d be holed up in a motel somewhere, anyway. Why not be here instead?”

Sam’s shoulders decompress. “I still don’t know where ‘here’ _is_.” 

In her best tour guide voice, she proclaims, “Welcome to Marquette, Michigan.” She gestures across the road. “This way, please.”

They travel through the thin woods and arrive at a moderate bank that is more dirt than grass. The horizon has nearly swallowed the fiery sun; it shouldn’t be long. 

Sam sits, regarding the tranquil lake. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah.” _Just wait_ , she’d like to add. Instead, she dumps their duffels and takes a seat to his left. Rummaging through her bag, she produces a couple of flashlights and places one within Sam’s reach. They’re a precaution; neither Hunter bothers with an _on_ switch. 

She and Sam quietly enjoy the darkening atmosphere: the swelling symphony of lonely insects, the twinkling of emerging stars, the cooling air.

Finally, a subtle green hue flickers low in the sky. Her heart leaps. 

Sam’s breathless beside her. “What…?” The chartreuse light grows richer. “ _Holy..._ ” He stands, and she joins him, wanting to share his better view. “But it-it’s summer,” he notes, puzzled. “The aurora borealis is best seen when the days are shorter…”

Warmth blooms in her chest. _Of course_ he had that trivia in his pocket. “I guess it knew we needed it _now_ ,” she reasons, turning into Sam’s side and encircling his waist. His uninjured arm slips around her shoulders without hesitation. 

Additional colors appear by the minute: aquamarine, fuchsia, violet. Wisps of light dance above the Hunters’ heads and reflect on the surface of the water, putting on a show that seems meant for only the two of them.

Sam’s stomach quivers under her touch, and she drags her eyes from the scenery to the man who is somehow more spellbinding. A cascading tear glimmers on his cheek, and she frees one of her hands to dab it away. He sniffles and looks down at her. She’s sure to meet his gaze with an affectionate smile.

“Thank you,” he whispers. And those words--they don’t come from his lips, they come from his _soul_.  
  
  



End file.
